Hike where few footsteps are found

The hills hugging the Main Salmon offer hikes that range from easy to extreme. In the morning before we broke camp it was fun to explore. Often there was a trail on the north side that traced the canyon just above the high water line. Other times we followed goat trails that zigzagged the steep slopes. What a pretty place.

Kayaking lesson

Two in our party kayaked while the rest of us floated the river in the big boats. A few hours in the inflatable kayak will give you a taste of what it's like to be one with the river. As I wrote earlier in this blog the view is much different because you ride in the current rather than atop of it.

After several days our daughter asked for a lesson in kayaking. Harder than it looks. Here she sits in a borrowed Dagger, sprayskirt secured, ready to roll. Took several attempts to get it right. The smile on her face told us it was fun.

Breath taking sunset

Our next challenge was Looney Tunes, a long narrow stretch of river with slow current against strong gusts of wind. Our progress was made easier by tying three rafts together and rowing in unison. I was beat by the time we made camp at Mann Creek.

Our camp hugged the shore. The sandy beach was longer than it was wide. After dinner we sat with our camp chairs in a circle. Our gang sang songs. It was a joyous sound. The nature around us responded with this wondrous sunset. When the singing paused, I closed my eyes, and felt the sun and wind on my face. The only sound I heard was the ripple of the current. I felt blessed to be here.

Jumping from the Pack Bridge

"Best be going," our leader said.

Soon we were underway again, past several camps on the left and right, then ran Action Jackson and Ludwig rapids, traveling some three miles to Mackay Bar where we stopped to jump fr0m the Pack Bridge.

At least 30 feet above the river the daring ones in our group climbed over the rail and stared down at the current below. The boys leaped right away but our daughter wasn't far behind. Each made a giant splash as they entered the water. The teens swam to shore, then scrambled up the rocky bank so they could race across the bridge and jump a second time.

It looked like fun.

Five Mile Bar: home of Buckskin Bill

Our sojourn today started slow and peaceful, drifting by a couple of camps on the river's north side and running a pair of no name rapids. Our first thrill of the day came at mile 50-- Boise Bar Rapid, a Class II+ to III. The left side was littered with rocks so we ran the center. Hiding at the bottom right was a boat flipping hole. I followed the others, paddling left to avoid the obstacle.
Later we beached our boats at Buckskin Bill's place. Everyone stops here as the trading post offers a big beach, self guided tours of the mountain man's homestead and a little store where you can buy bags of ice, soda and ice cream. The place is like a museum with plenty of old pictures and relics of guns, bullets and tools made by the man. High on the hillside stands a tower that Bill built of rock and cement. Bill had feared the government would come and take his property. From the top we could see the encampment on the left, the beach the river in both directions. For a brief moment I imagined standing at Bill's side staring down his enemies.
On our way to the beach we came upon a bomb shelter that was built of stone and concrete, a musty cavern large enough for 3-4 adults. We made our way to the museum and gift shop that once was Bill's home and guesthouse. The furnishings were still intact. We could look but not touch.
We were summoned to the museum to watch a video on a small TV where we watched Curt Gowdy from ABC's Wide World of Sports in 1963 interviewing Buckskin Bill. The producers wanted to see him shoot his home made guns. It was fun to hear the mountain man speak in his deep, gruff tone. "Umm-humm," Bill repeated as he replied to Gowdy's questions.
"What kind of gun is this?" Gowdy said.
"30 millimeter," Bill said.
"And what kind of bullets does it shoot?"
"Round bullets, umm-humm," Bill answered. "It's got double triggers."
"Looks like it's got a lot of kick," Gowdy said.
Bill pulled the first trigger, then took a deep breath, bracing himself against a big rock, aiming at something in the distance. With the pull of the second trigger there was a loud explosion, the rifle recoiled and pushed Bill back, but he quickly regained his balance.
We all laughed.
The stop here isn't complete without a group photo taken on the steps that lead to the beach. Do we look like a bunch of river rats?

Baby bear spotted on the shore

Check out this spider on our tent.

Five minutes before we beached our boats to camp at Rhett Creek we spotted a baby bear on the shore. Moments later our daughter pointed to a larger bear, presumably the mother. Another reminder that we were deep in the Frank Church Wilderness.

Tonight's dinner had a mexican theme: enchiladas, chips, salsa and pitchers of margaritas. We celebrated a birthday with pudding marshmallow cake. Yummy.

Stop to enjoy Jim Moore's place

Born about 1868, died April 25, 1942. We found Jim Moore's grave with his name and vitals carved into a small wooden headboard overlooking the compound with a picturesque view of the vast meadow and mountains in the distance. Imagine what it was like 100 years ago when 1800 prospectors rode through here on horseback on their way to the hills for gold. They stopped for food, hay for their horses, freshly made moonshine and other necessities. Six decades later the remnants of the trading post remained much like they were left. Legend says that taking anything from Jim Moore's place was bad luck. For me it's good enough to mill about the pot belly stoves, leather straps, horseshoes and fossilized road apples. I felt at peace here and didn't want to leave.

Back in time at Jim Moore's place

Saturday: That's me posing next to the historical marker on one of several buildings still standing at Jim Moore's Place.
It was a day of big rapids. Bailey, named after Robert G. Bailey, author of River of No Return, was one of the biggest rapids to this point. 5 Mile Rapid and its enormous corkscrew hole in the center and sheer rock wall on the right. Split Rock Rapid, another Class III, splitting the big waves between the massive rock in the middle and the cluster of smaller ones on the right. Next was Big Mallard around a blind left bend that we ran on the left side, squeezing the gap between rocks on the left and the giant hole at the bottom. Elkhorn was next, the longest rapid on the river, more like three rapids sewn together. Most exciting was taking the left side of Elephant Rock, a massive boulder in the middle. Two miles later we beached our boats so we could explore Jim Moore's place. I'll tell you more in my next post.

Bee trouble at Magpie Creek

Friday night: we beached the boats at Magpie Creek on the left side of the river, mile 29.5. Our camp was a big beach, some 15 feet higher than the river. It felt good to release the Velcro straps of my sandals and to walk barefoot in the sand. I found a secluded spot where I sat on a log and made entries in my journal. My arms and upper body were sore from hours of rowing. Our cooks prepared spaghetti and garlic bread that was rib-sticking and tasty. Rattlesnake Creek wound its way up the canyon. I traced it for some distance, treated to the sounds of rushing water, the smells of plant life--ferns and other Alpine flora more typical of the Pacific NW.
Back at camp the bees were ferocious, mainly in the kitchen area. Hundreds were captured in our hanging bee traps, but ten times as many pestered us until we went to bed. Tents were mandatory tonight. We made a fire and roasted marshmallows. Some of us made Smores.
"The problem is all the people," my sister-in-law said. "It's a nice shady beach and big groups camp here every night in summer." Just a little bit of drink spilled or the tiniest bit of food dropped give the bees plenty of reasons to homestead.
"Too bad, because it's such a nice beach," she said.
I nodded.

One with the river in Little Blue Cat

We took turns on the oars of the Little Blue Cat, a boat about 1/3 scale, that packed a lot of fun and excitement. Like being in a kayak, the view from this small boat is different, the sensation that you are riding in, not on top of the water. In the heart of the wave train, no one but you to pick the route and steer the boat. No co-pilot to offer a second opinion. With each big wave you expect to get soaked, but that's okay. It was smoking hot and it felt good.

Just past Mile 25 we approached Hancock Rapid. We followed our leader, entering on the far right. We ran the rapid long and clean. Big rocks protruded in the middle. As we rested in an eddy the next boat rammed against a big boulder in the center. The bow of the boat slid over the rock and left it high centered. We thought he was stuck but he waved us off and pulled from his dry bag a camera which he used to take snapshots of the boat behind him. Guess he knew what he was doing.

Hot tub anyone?

Later we stopped at Hot Tub Springs. After beaching our boats we hiked a rocky path, following a warm, steamy creek to a spot high on a cliff where we crammed into a manmade tub. The water temp was like a hot bath. It felt good except for the sting it gave my sunburn. Been to hot springs before and expected a sulfur smell but found none here. One of the more popular spots on the river, we didn't have long to soak before the next group of rafters, a large outfitted group, stood waiting their turn.

Salmon Falls offered big thrills

Friday: our party put in about noon. We approached Salmon Falls, sided by its rock wall on the left and big boulders on the right. Sitting in the front of the blue Avon I had the best seat in the house. In our way were two giant rocks, just right of center. Our boat captain calmly read the current, lined us up with the rock on the right. Our pace quickened as the current pushed us down the falls into the slot from right to left. But instead of sliding to the left around the trouble our rubber raft slammed directly into the big round rock, spinning our boat sideways into a hole. He pulled mightily on the oars, backing our boat out of the hole, rotating clockwise. Now we were positioned backwards in the heart of the rapid. I freaked but my friend on the oars laughed as we ran the balance of the rapid facing upstream.

"That was fun," I screamed.

Before my friend could answer we crashed into the next big wave and both of us were soaked by the giant splash that came over the stern. We pulled into an eddy and watched the others run the rapid.

Who wants chocolate cake?

Thursday night: we stayed the night at Blackadar Camp, on the north side of the river at mile 17. Each day a different couple in our party was assigned kitchen duties. That meant cooking and cleaning for the 19 adults and teens in our party. Dinner was the start to our cycle. Propane fueled a pair of four burner stoves. We boiled a big pot of water, used a second vessel to heat chili that had been slow cooked at home then bagged, sealed and frozen. Our menu featured chili dogs, potato salad and home made chocolate cake. Big chests full of ice were stowed on each boat. Thanks to that, you could hardly call this roughing it.

We found abundant wildlife in Frank Church Wilderness

This deer in the orchard studied me carefully before going about her business. We saw deer several times along with bear, big horn sheep, hawks and eagles. Mostly we viewed the wildlife from our boat as we floated down river. But occasionally we came upon them as we camped or scouted the area. Snakes and spiders were my least favorite.

Lunchtime on the Salmon River

Rowing the boat and running rapids takes a lot of energy and concentration. So I found myself ready to rest and eat when our leader declared it was time for lunch. Wwe beached our five boats and set up a pair of small tables. We reached into the ice chests and filled our bellies with fresh fruit, chicken salad sandwiches and a few cans of Pringle chips. Some drank tea, others soda and the rest of us water so all were fully hydrated.

After lunch several of us hiked up a dirt road to an orchard planted many decades before by a mountain main who made applejack and sold it prospectors. We came upon the remnants of a cabin. Destroyed presumably by fire, all that remained was the foundation. Up ahead were other cabins, well preserved. I was drawn to them with curiosity. Through the window we could see furnishings that included a wood stove, sink and table. Electrical outlets led me to believe the tenants must have used a generator. Our walk through the orchard led us to four or five grouse: a hen and four chicks. They didn't seem to mind our presence. We marveled at the elaborate irrigation system the delivered water from the creek to the stand of apple trees. On the right I spotted a doe standing motionless. I froze in my tracks. The deer and I exchanged stares for a few minutes before she calmly walked away at a deliberate pace. Two other deer that had gone undetected followed her into the woods.

"There was nothing we could do but watch"

Thursday morning: we loaded the boats and soon were underway. It was pushing noon but I soon found that I was the only one concerned with the time. Everyone else knew from experience that part of the fun on the river is the leisurely pace. There are sections of the Main Salmon where you relax and let the current do the work. Then there are others where you better know what you are doing and how to run each rapid. The guidebook offers tips but experienced rafters know how to spot the rocks and holes and best ways to avoid them. About a quarter mile past Phantom Creek we approached Rainier Rapid, a Class II that offered the biggest waves of any rapid we had seen so far on our trip. Just right of center we faced a large rock and hole. My friend on the oars used a cross handed stroke to move our blue Avon left of the hole, then turned our boat straight to run the rest of the rapid perfectly. He put us in an eddy so we could watch the next boat. The yellow catamaran was in the heart of the rapid. My son was behind on the yellow ducky tied to the stern. As they crashed into the wave train the ducky flipped and my son was in the water. There was nothing we could do but watch. My wife reached into the water and grabbed him by the arm. "Let him go, you'll dislocate his shoulder," her sister yelled. "Here, do it like this," she said as she gripped the neck of his life jacket and plucked him onto the yellow cat. They ran the rest of the rapid without incident. Afterward we laughed about the rescue, thankful that no one had been hurt. The river is littered with a lot of rocks and hidden obstacles in the rapids. We were warned that it wouldn't take much to hit your head on a rock or have your feet lodged and drown.

Climbing like a mountain goat

Thursday morning: after breakfast a few of us decided to challenge the massive mountain that faced the north side of our camp. The route we chose was steep and the terrain was comprised of soft soil, scrub grasses, a few large trees and rock outcroppings. Seeing no clear trail to the top the three of us bushwhacked our way, often using our hands and feet to scramble up the hillside. A pair of gloves would have been handy. The sky was blue and the sun was bright. The air was already hot. We rested in the shade of a 30 foot pine, taking pause to measure our progress and view our camp some 500 feet below. Continuing our ascent we followed an animal trail likely used by big horn sheep or mountain goats on their way to and from the water. Though this stretch was steeper the sandy soil gave way to rock and the footing was more secure for climbing. From the ridge, some 1500' above the river the view was breathtaking. We sat for a spell, drank water from Nalgene bottles and admired the magnificent panorama of the Main Salmon corridor and the canyon beyond. And to think that this was the view enjoyed nearly every day by the mountain goat or bald eagle who call this place home. I felt privileged to be here.

Main salmon: our first day was easy

Wednesday: put in at Corn Creek. The temp was pushing 100, the skies were clear, hardly a breeze. There were 19 in our party. Five boats carried our gear and food for 7 days. My son opted for an inflatable kayak and made his way confidently down river. About 30 minutes into our trip we pulled out the water canons. It was time for a water fight. The cold water felt good but evaporated in minutes. A short while later we were running Killum Rapid, a decent II+ run. Half mile later was Gunbarrel. Stopped for lunch , beaching the boats on a sandbar. Another couple miles, a few no-name rapids, past Horse Creek, ran Sub Creek Rapid, then made our way to Legend Campground where we would stay for the night. First priority for everyone was staking claim to a sleeping spot. Our camp was set up in no time. Legend with its long sandy beach and tall stand of trees offered a suitable site for our first night on the river. We spent the evening eating, drinking and sharing stories. As most of the others on this trip were new faces it gave us time to get acquainted.

Rugged wilderness

Sights and sounds of the city are soon forgotten once you are on the river and enjoying views like this one. Camping on the river and hiking along its banks reveals all sorts of flora and fauna. My friends and I find a peaceful solitude here even when we travel in parties of 12 or more as there shady spots like this one where you can pause for a moment and take in nature and all it has to offer.

Father and son time

Blue skies and breathtaking views are common in the summer on the main fork of the Salmon River. Camping under the stars and gourmet meals give way to loading the boat and shoving off for another day of running rapids. But for me the quality time with my son is my favorite part of this week long outdoor adventure. Our trip down the Salmon River came from an invite from my wife's sister. A veteran River Rat, she and her husband offered their expertise and all the necessary equipment.

Discovering the Main Salmon

Last year's fires changed the experience for those who were allowed in August to run the main fork of the Salmon River in Idaho.

The 82 mile stretch from Corn Creek to Carey Creek is known for its big water and Class III and IV rapids. Permits are required from June to September. Guided trips are also available from commercial outfitters.

Seven day adventure combines the thrill and excitement of whitewater rafting with the relaxation that comes with wilderness camping.